


New Tricks

by tinkle_time



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Post-Finale, Sea Stans, an old dog can learn, ford loves his bro bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkle_time/pseuds/tinkle_time
Summary: Stan teaches himself something he'd bitterly sworn was impossible for him.





	New Tricks

“I thought you hated musical instruments, Stanley.” Ford eyed the small guitar held awkwardly in Stan’s hands.

Stan scratched the back of his neck. “Ehh. Got over it.”

Ford shrugged. It wasn’t surprising to see someone going through their mid-life crisis and trying to learn a new thing or two. And it certainly wasn’t surprising to see Stan give into his mid-life crisis’s impulses. Ford walked away and left it at that.

_

Ford shot up in bed at the sound of a horrifying screech.

Had something gotten on the boat?

Were they in danger?

_Where was Stanley?_

Ford dashed the three steps it took to get to the cabin door and had his leg up, ready to kick it down when he heard that screech again. And well, it wasn’t a screech, really. It hurt his ears, yes, but he recognized it now – the out-of-tune twang of a badly played instrument.

He chuckled, relieved. He had almost kicked down the door just because his brother didn’t know how to play a mini-guitar, or whatever that instrument was. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to kick a door down over. He remembered then that his foot was still in the air and placed it down gently.

The sound would be an obstacle to his sleep, though. He should tell Stan to keep it down or keep it to daytime hours. So he reached for the doorknob, only to stop at the sound of a proper chord, followed by Stan’s triumphant “YES!”

Ford dropped his hand. He could learn to block out the noise.

_

It took a few days before Ford started watching Stan’s practice through the window of their cabin. Partly, he couldn’t sleep through the noise. Mostly, Stanley looked at peace like that, sitting against the railing at the bow of the ship. Stan would (attempt to) strum, and it’d take a while, but he’d get it. Even if it took multiple nights to make any sort of noticeable progress. Anyone less obstinate would have given up already.

Ford found himself smiling at that.

_

Ford had been counting the days, and it was a month, a week, and a half before Stan nudged him awkwardly with an elbow and said, “Hey, Sixer, I, uh, wanted to show you something.”

Ford smiled – maybe too knowingly, but Stan wasn’t looking at his face. “What is it?”

“I’ve been working on something. Kinda. Sorta.” Then Stan put on a more familiar voice. “Don’t read into it.”

“Alright,” Ford promised, with a laugh.

He learned later that it was called a ukulele.

**Author's Note:**

> Never give up. You're greater than you know.


End file.
